My Fair Corruption
by acsimpson00
Summary: Christian Grey's account of how he met Elena and became her submissive.
1. Chapter 1

I roll my eyes as I step into the congested, uncomfortable space that is the Fairmont Academy cafeteria. Being in the last lunch cycle is terrible enough on a normal day; there's hardly any food left, and it's like pulling teeth to get any of the chefs to lift another finger after dealing with the previous three cycles. Today, however is even worse; after a small fire in the kitchen, blown completely out of proportion, the third cycle has to eat with us and the cafeteria is at double it's capacity. The line is stretching the length of the entire right wall, and for a buffet it's moving at a snail's pace.

After sitting at my usual table-alone-for a few minutes I decide to take matters into my own hands. After skipping breakfast I was absolutely starving; and I'd be damned if there was nothing left when I reached the food. It was moments like these when I was happy not to have any friends because I didn't give a shit about anyone in the line, or what they had to say about me cutting them.

I make a beeline for the corner beside the buffet where the trays are held. I notice a few people glare at me on the way but I don't pay them any attention. A large portion of the students are all crowded around the trays and I begin to push my way through.

"Excuse me….coming through…." I mumble as I push people aside. The guys glare at me and move reluctantly but I'm pretty sure I hear a few audible sighs and giggles coming from the girls that I gently squeeze between. I roll my mental eyes. As if I would ever consider dating any of the preppy bitches that attend this school.

I reach to serve myself some mashed potatoes when I feel a large hand grab my forearm. "What do you think you're doing, Grey?"

I snatch my arm back and slowly turn to face Paul Rouson, one of star basketball players. If there was anyone in the line to put me in my place about cutting it would definitely be him; cocky, arrogant, bastard that he was.

I put on the fakest, friendliest smile that I can manage. "Paul! How about that game last night?"

He ignores my sarcasm. "So you think because you've won a couple of fights that you can do whatever you want around here? Or are you just too self centered to notice all the people that you just jumped in line?"

I look up and down the line dramatically, and by now everyone is staring at us. " Well no one else seemed to mind Paul so why should you?"

"Grey, everyone else in this school may be afraid to tell you about yourself, but I'm certainly not. Walking around with your nose in the air like you're better than everyone else? In case you hadn't noticed we _all _have money," he snorts, "and at least _our_ parents actually wanted us. Now get to the back of the fucking-"

It's at that moment that I decide to politely interrupt his monologue by bringing my lunch tray to the side of his head with a considerable amount of force. He staggers back as half the cafeteria rushes up to watch.

"You don't know shit about me," I say calmly as he wipes the blood that's trickling from his lip. I drop the lunch tray as he lunges at me and I manage to land a punch to his jaw before we're both rolling around on the floor. Though Paul is slightly taller than me we're pretty much the same size, and I have him pinned on the floor beneath me in seconds.

The sound of his nose cracking is extremely pleasant to me as my second punch lands it's mark, followed by the third and forth to the same general area. Then suddenly Paul seems to remember he's in the middle of a fight, grabs two fists full of my shirt, and roughly throws me off of him. We both scramble to our feet and before I can even register what to do next he knees me in the stomach with as much force and he can and I double over, breathless. Predictably he goes in for an uppercut and I'm still too incapacitated to block it. My teeth knock together audibly as I fall back against the cart of trays. He grabs my shirt again and punches me in the mouth. I instantly taste a stream a blood as his next one connects with my nose. Suddenly a strong, muscular arm wraps around his middle from behind and I know that security has finally arrived. Two men pull him away from me and I admit that I'm a little relieved; the guy was about to go to town on my face.

I rise from the ground unsteadily and use my white shirt to wipe the blood from the edges of my mouth, and although I feel warm liquid trickle down my upper lip I don't even attempt to touch my nose. The pain is excruciating and I know that it's broken again. This will make time number 3 and I smile slightly thinking about how pissed Dr. Anderson is going to be to see me in his office again.

I don't react when another security guard roughly grabs my arm and begins to pull me across the cafeteria.

"What the hell are we gonna do with you Grey?" he asks with a chuckle as we make our way to the office.

I don't respond to his question. I'd been asking myself the same thing everyday for fifteen years and still hadn't come up with an answer.


	2. Chapter 2

My adopted father, Carrick, met me at the entrance of the emergency room after I had my nose treated. I was ridiculously grateful that Grace wasn't with him, the last thing that I wanted to deal with at the moment was a lecture. He confirmed my worries the moment that we got into the car.

"Grace wants to talk to you when we get home."

I snorted. "I figured as much. She probably stayed behind to draft and prepare her lecture."

Carrick just smiled and shook his head. The rest of the car ride was spent in a comfortable silence; he wasn't much of a talker and neither was I.

Grace was waiting for me in the living room, idly flipping through a magazine on the expensive leather couch. Carrick conveniently had some business to attend to and had pulled off after dropping me off.

Grace's head snapped up when I walked into the large room. Her face twisted in horror, and she threw the magazine on the couch and came rushing over to me. "Oh my God! Christian your nose….! Are you alright?"

"Fine." I mumbled as I swatted her hand away. She knew I didn't like to be touched.

Her hands fell back to her sides, and she emitted a weary sigh. "Come sit on the couch so we can talk. " I followed her over to the couch and took a seat but she remained standing.

"I just got off the phone with the principal of Fairmont a few minutes before you and Carrick came back," she paused for a few seconds, but I didn't respond so she continued. "This is it, Christian. This is your last chance, he made it very clear that if you receive one more referral this year, no matter what the offense, you will be expelled. You know what expulsion means."

Expulsion from Fairmont with my type of record meant that there was only one other place for me to go: Brookhaven, a very expensive reformation program for rich delinquents.

A moment later she was on her knees in front of me grasping both of my hands. "How can we help you Christian? Please tell me, we'll do anything. I can find you a new therapist-"

"I don't want to see another fucking therapist." I snapped without looking at her.

She sighed. "Christian, your language. There is no need to swear."

I snatched my hands from hers and stood up. "My _nose_ is _broken _and the only thing that you're worried about is cuss words?"

"Christian you act like you don't care about your nose, so why should I? Why do you keep going around provoking these fights-"

"I didn't provoke him he made fun of me for being adopted! You just don't know what he said to me." I trailed off.

Grace allowed to a few seconds to make sure that I was finished. "And what about the boy before that? And the six people before that? Christian you are the common denominator not them, and it's about time you started taking responsibility for your actions."

I still didn't look her in the eye. She continued in a soft voice, "Why won't you allow yourself to be happy Christian? Why do you choose to torture yourself? You have the best of everything now; a loving family, opportunities that other teens can only dream about. You'll never be that little boy in that apartment again, but you'll never be able to move on and be happy until you allow yourself to."

The logical part of me knew that she was right. Grace had rescued me; and I wanted nothing else in the world more than to be the perfect son for her, or at least be someone that she could be proud of. But I never would be-I'd always just be a fuck-up, and some days I wondered why she'd even wasted her time adopting me.

"I'm sorry, Grace." I said quietly after a long silence, so low that it was barely a whisper.

She didn't respond, and I turned to walk upstairs to my bedroom.

"_Mommy? Mommy? Wake-up Mommy…" _

_I vigorously shook the shoulder of the shoulder of the thin brunette lying face-down on the dirty green carpet. Her skin was cold and hard. No matter how hard I tried I could never turn her over. _

"_Mommy…..I'm so hungry…."_

And then I was awake, sitting up in my bed clutching at my racing heart. Sweat was pouring down my face and my back, and I was breathing as though I was been underwater for and hour. I looked over at the clock it read 2:15 in the morning. As usual.

I flopped back onto the bed and covered my face with my hands as the sobs began. I tried to keep it brief, knowing that my brother Elliot was in the room next to me and he would come check if he heard.

After getting The Cry out of the way I pushed the covers back and made my way to the closet. I slid on a plain white T-shirt and jeans, grabbed my house key and walkman, and quietly made my way downstairs. Luckily there was carpet on the second floor.

It was a cool September night, the perfect temperature for walking. I hit play on my mixed CD and the beautiful melody of Moonlight Sonata filled my ears. In no time at all I was finally at the playground a few blocks from my house. I found a seat on my favorite bench, spread my arms out, and tilted my head back relaxing completely.

They say that you can feel when a person is staring at you. To be honest I never actually had; and kind of thought that the saying was bullshit. However when I absentmindedly looked up about 10 minutes later, there was a silver Jaguar with darkly tinted windows parked against the curb that hadn't been there before. I sat up with a start and as if on cue, the car pulled off.

For a few moments I stared at the space where the car had been, then shook my head as if to physically rid myself of the thought. I stood up-it was time to go home.

I slept until 2 o clock in the evening the next day, even though it was a Monday. I was suspended from school for 2 weeks, but Carrick and Grace had seemingly decided that it was pointless to ground me. I hardly had any friends to hang out with anyway.

After showering and getting dressed, I made my way to a coffee shop in the small shopping area just outside the gates of our suburbs, my laptop in tow. Some girl whom I suspected had a crush on me offered to email me my algebra assignments while I was out; the other subjects I could afford to fall a little behind in but math was the exception.

Luckily for me there were only two other people in the coffee shop, and they were in a deep, quiet conversation in a corner. The cashier was no where to be found so I plopped down into a chair on the opposite side of the restaurant as the hipster couple and began my work.

In the middle of a particularly difficult problem, the hair on my neck began to prickle and it had absolutely nothing to do with algebra. My head snapped up instinctively, and I'll be damned if the exact same silver Jaguar from the night before wasn't parked right across the street, in front of a dollar store.

To me, there was no such thing as a coincidence. Someone was following me and I would figure out who it was. Right then.

Leaving my laptop and the rest of my belongings on the table I exited the shop and made my way across the street to the car. I realized that up close it was possible to see through the windows. If only a little. Without shame, (after all weren't they following _me _I cupped my hands against the glass and leaned close to peak in. The interior was visible enough through the tint for me to see that there was no one in it.

I looked up and down the street. Expecting to see some creepy old man conspicuously staring at me and the car but there was no one. Everyone on the street seemed oblivious and they were absorbed in their own lives.

I decided to go back to the coffee shop and wait for the person. I could see well enough through the large window in the front of the shop. I sat and I waited. And waited, and waited….

For two hours. And no one showed up by the Jaguar. Whoever it was was certainly hellbent on me not knowing their identity.

And they would win this round. I had to get back home before Carrick or Grace.

I left the coffee shop reluctantly.

The exact same nightmare visited me from the night before and I woke with a start. Glancing at the clock I noticed that it was again 2:15. I didn't cry tonight. I pulled on a black sweatsuit, grabbed my walkman and made my way to the park.

It was cold tonight but I barely noticed. I increased my pace in order to work up a sweat as Beethoven flooded my ears at a deafening volume. I smelled rain but I dismissed that thought as well.

I was splayed out on the bench in my familiar fashion, with my head tipped back when I felt the first rain drop on my forehead. I shoved my cd player into my large pants pocket and returned to my original position. _A little rain never hurt anybody. _

A torrential downpour, however, does. And that is exactly what I found myself in the middle of approximately 2 minutes later. Instinctively I hopped up and began to walk quickly in the direction of my house. When I spotted it, parked in the same place it had been the previous night.

The silver Jaguar.

My determination to unmask the identity of my stalker overrode my desire to get out of the rain and I abruptly turned and began walking in the direction of the car. At first I feared the person would pull off but oddly enough they didn't tonight. And I knew that they had to be in the car because the headlights were on.

Without hesitation I knocked on the glass of the driver's side window and held my breath as it slowly began to slide down.

The face that stared back at me was the last one I would have ever expected. It wasn't a creepy old man, or a serial killer. It was one of the most beautiful women that I had ever laid eyes on. Her long strawberry blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail at the nape of her neck, and her blues eyes gazed back at mine with an identical curiosity. One disturbing fact however, was that she looked like she could have been my mother's age.

I finally found my voice, but it didn't come out nearly as harsh as I had planned for the person who was stalking me. In fact, it wasn't harsh at all; only curious. "Why are you following me?"

She responded by reaching to hit the automatic locks.

"Get in the car."


	3. Chapter 3

I hesitated. My extensive 'Stranger Danger' training from elementary school kicked in and my logical mind was telling me not to get into the car with this woman. I had no idea who the hell she was, where she was from, or what she was capable of. For all I knew the basement of her home could have been turned into some kind of torture chamber made specifically for young, unsuspecting boys like me. She could be some kind of psychopath. But all possibilities about this strange woman considered, of one thing I was certain…she was extremely beautiful.

Beautiful women do things to a man.

Which is probably the reason why, a few seconds later, I found myself sliding into the passenger seat.

For a few moments we just sat looking each other in the eye, mine wary and hers even. She had mesmerizing blue eyes and something in them made me want to trust her. It wasn't until about 2 minutes of being stared at that I realized she was waiting on something.

"Put on your seat belt." she commanded.

I snorted then continued to look at her silently. The woman hadn't even learned my first name yet and already she was bossing me around? Did she think she could say whatever she wanted simply because we were in her car?

"I don't wear seatbelts." I replied calmly. I didn't particularly care for being tied down in any way, shape, or form; it made me feel helpless and vulnerable. I'd never had to explain this to Carrick or Grace because they hadn't pressed the issue.

Her tone was as patient as her eyes were firm. "Do you realize how unsafe that is?"

"Can't you drive?"

She only looked at me and then, deciding to take matters into her own hands, she reached across me for my seatbelt. I was momentarily distracted by her perfume, which I guessed to be jasmine. I wasn't 100 percent sure but all I knew was that it was heavenly.

She pulled it across me, clicked it into place, and sat back to wait on my reaction. I looked down at the gray strap and then out the window. Even through the dark tint I could see that the rain was still coming down in sheets, and it was about a 2 mile walk back home. Though I was extremely annoyed by this point I wasn't completely insane. She'd made it clear that the car wasn't moving unless I wore my seat belt, so I crossed my arms but left it in place.

Satisfied, she finally put the car in drive and pulled away from the curb. "Are you cold?" she asked me as she reached for the temperature dials.

"Yes," I admitted stubbornly. "I am also curious. As to who you are, why you've been stalking me the past few days, and where you are taking me now."

"My name is Elena, I'm taking you home, and I've been keeping a careful eye on you not "stalking"." She made quotations with her right hand as if I'd created the word myself and it didn't accurately describe her recent behavior.

"Well why have you been 'keeping a careful eye' on me then?"

To my surprise she responded with a laugh. "You just look so…tortured. Like you need someone to save you; or at least watch to make sure you don't commit suicide."

I chose to ignore her offensive assessment of my character. I hadn't consciously contemplated ending my own life since middle school. "And that person is you? Thanks lady, but I already have two loving parents and a ridiculously expensive therapist."

"But he's just that, right? Expensive. Only talking to you because he's getting paid to do so. Would he be interested in anything you had to say, otherwise? Would he come pick you up out of the pouring rain?"

I couldn't stop myself from bursting into laughter. "So that's what you are, Ms. Elena? A volunteer psychologist who rides around helping angsty-looking teens? Well, you are quite the Samaritan aren't you?"

"And you are quite the smart-ass; your loving parents may have done you a favor with a spanking or two." she replied coldly.

I didn't respond. She'd brought me up short.

"Tell me your name." her voice had returned to being gentle.

I prickled at the fact that she hadn't _asked, _but no longer wanting her to think me the unruly teenager I simply answered "Christian."

"Hmm."

I didn't know what the sound meant, nor did I bother asking. At this point we were pulling up to my house and I was both relieved and disappointed. While the assumptions she made about me were annoying, there was something distinctly appealing about talking to someone who didn't treat me like I was fragile; who didn't know my past, didn't care, and who let it be known that they weren't taking my shit.

As I got out of the car I noticed her reach her hand out to touch me. I involuntarily flinched and turned around, suddenly wary. Instead of pulling back she left her hand come down slowly, so that I could clearly see that she was only going to rest it on my shoulder. It was warm through my wet jacket.

"Be careful, Christian."

I stared back for a second before shrugging her hand off of my shoulder. I quickly responded, "Thanks for the ride."

I got out of the car and began making my way up the walk path. She waited until I was inside the house to pull off. As I quietly walked up the stairs-careful not to wake anyone else in the house-I vaguely wondered if I would ever see her again. A part of me somehow knew that the answer was yes….

Elena and I would be crossing paths again _very _soon, and she was about to turn my entire world upside-down.


	4. Chapter 4

I wasn't surprised to see her silver Jag in front of my house the next day when I left the house to walk to the coffee shop with my laptop. I thought about just walking past her, but I somehow knew that she would follow me. _If she was going to axe murder you she would have done it the other night wouldn't she? _ After one more glance at our house I quickly crossed the street and slid into the passenger seat.

She was wearing a gray pinstripe blazer and skirt with a crisp white button down shirt, stockings, and black high heels. She looked absolutely stunning, but still eerily like she could be my mother.

Trying not to focus on her hooker-red lipstick, I asked her, "What are you doing here?"

She laughed and it was a light sound. "Well good morning to you too…." She put the car in drive and pulled away from the curb. "I'm giving you a ride to school. "

Again, she was _telling _me what to do and not asking me. "I wasn't going to school."

"Seatbelt. And why not?"

I impatiently clicked my damned seatbelt into place and responded, "I'm suspended for two weeks."

"You were in a fight?"

I looked out the window. "No. They just dislike clumsy people who fall into lockers and break their own noses." I had already taken the brace off against the doctor's orders to leave it on for the next week.

She very suddenly slammed on the brakes, even though we were still about 100 ft away from the upcoming stop sign. I lunged forward, my seatbelt locked, and I was slammed back into the seat so hard I actually thought I might have whiplash. My heart was pounding as I reeled on her. "What the fuck is wrong with you? Can you _drive?" _

Without a word she began to accelerate again, slowly. "Aren't you glad you were wearing your seatbelt?"

I could only stare at her gorgeous profile incredulously. She was absolutely insane.

And yet I still wanted to stay in the car with her….

"Do you want coffee?" she asked after I finally managed to pull my bottom lip up and turn to face the front of the car again.

_If we make it there alive. _I kept the smart remark to myself, however, lest she kill us both. "Why not? I have nothing better to do."

She tilted her head. "Not exactly a yes….but I guess that'll do."

When we got to the coffee shop she aggressively insisted on paying for us both. We were at an impasse; I didn't want a woman paying for mine, and she didn't want a 'child' (though I hadn't considered myself such in a very long time), paying for hers. We went back and forth a few rounds but in the end it was a cold glare that silenced me.

Snatching my drink from the counter, I turned to walk begrudgingly to a table against the left wall. She was somehow faster—her heels made her an inch or two taller than me—and she click-clacked ahead; pulling out one chair before walking around to sit in the other. Was she trying to completely emasculate me?

I sat down in the chair and sipped my coffee, briefly enjoying the faint scent of jasmine she'd left in her wake.

Oddly, we both set our cups down at the same time. "Tell me about the fight." She asked.

She was polite so I reiterated the story in detail, stopping at the part after being taken to the office. I didn't tell her about my conversation with Grace. To her credit, she listened intently without interrupting; nodding and making faces when necessary. When I was done she only made a 'hmm' sound and sipped her coffee without a word. Her silence made me uncomfortable so I began to explain myself.

"I wasn't going to let him get away with saying something like that to me."

"Why do you care?"

I looked at her like she was crazy. "He was making fun of me for being adopted!"

"You aren't the only kid in the world that's adopted, Christian."

My voice got low, and cold. "You have absolutely no idea what I've been through."

Her voice was just as icy as she snapped back, "You're right, I don't. And neither does Paul, or anyone else that you meet in the future. Nor do they care. We've all been through things; but we pick up, move on, and stop blaming the rest of the world for our own problems. Quit feeling sorry for yourself."

"We all have problems? Were you also left starving for four days in an apartment with your own mother's corpse?"

She looked up at me from her coffee, her face bewildered. Oh, that got her attention. She opened her mouth and closed it a few times before she managed to sputter out "Christian I'm…..that's—".

I didn't bother helping her find whatever words she was looking for.

She recovered quickly, and her voice was suddenly gentle. "That's the most horrific thing I've ever heard, and I'm deeply sorry that it happened to you," she reached to put her hand over mine and I didn't flinch away. "But it doesn't change what I said. You can't just punch every person who says something you don't like."

I stared into my now empty cup. "I know. But I just get so _angry._"

"There are lots of ways to let out aggression."

I looked up at her and she had the hint of a smile on her lips, like she knew something that I didn't. Before I could think too hard about it, she smiled and stood up.

"Do you want a croissant?"

And so our routine began. Every morning for the next week, she'd pick me up at the same time and we'd go to the coffee shop, sit at our same table and talk until a few hours before Grace and Carrick came home from work. All of my previous jokes aside, it turned out that Elena _was _something like a therapist. I talked to her about everything; what was going on at school, how I felt about my parents, and my jealousy of my siblings. Her advice was always as it had been that first day; gentle but firm.

We joked around sometimes but they were light, and I kept my sarcastic remarks at a minimum. Even from the beginning it never felt like a friendship between us. It was hard at first, but I found myself getting used to the subtle air of authority she maintained over me. I kind of liked the fact that she didn't take my shit.

On the fifth day that she picked me up she grabbed my arm as I began to open the door. "There's someone in there that I want you to meet."

We stepped into the shop and I immediately noticed a girl about my age sitting at our table. Her hair was dyed a rich maroon and cut in a bob and she had striking green eyes. She was wearing a knee-length black pea coat with stockings and red heels. It was something Elena would wear. She was also beautiful.

She stood and smiled when we reached the table, and held out her hand for me to take it.

"Christian," Elena started. "This is my daughter, Portia."


End file.
